


Communication Skills

by thisisthefamilybusiness



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Genderswap, Girl!Hannibal Lecter, Mentions of canon-typical violence and cannibalism, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, girl!Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisthefamilybusiness/pseuds/thisisthefamilybusiness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham isn't one to talk about what she wants. Hannibal's determined to show her just how important communication is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communication Skills

Will is as sexless in her undergarments as she is in the shapeless flannel shirts and plain trousers she wears over them. Her bra and panties are plain, basic black, save for a little lace trim along the band of her bra. There is nothing sexy to it, especially not compared to Hannibal's fine scarlet silk and lace, but the noises Will makes when Hannibal sucks a bruise into her shoulder is sinfully, delectably erotic. Heat curls up at the base of Hannibal's spine, pooling between her legs.

"Christ--please, Hannibal, just--" Will cuts off into soft moaning as Hannibal roughly unclasps her bra and tosses it to the obsidian-coloured wood floor, tonguing at a pebbled pink nipple.

"Communication is key, Will. If you want something, you must speak up."

Will throws her head back against the expensive silk sheets of Hannibal's bed, breathing hard.

"I want--" Hannibal decides to play dirty, rolls her nipple in her mouth, Will breaking off mid-sentence again. She watches the dark-haired woman squirm for a moment as she struggles for composure. "I want--I want, ah, you..." Will begins. "I want your--your mouth."

Hannibal slithers upwards, over Will's body, until she's pressing biting kisses to her earlobe, whispering hotly in Will's ear: "Where do you want my mouth?"

Will squirms. "On--on me. On my--my clit. On my--my, my cunt." She says it like it's a filthy word, even as she helps Hannibal tug down her practical cotton briefs, letting Hannibal's mouth bite a trail of half-moon-shaped hickeys between her breasts and down to her navel.

"Should I eat you all up, dear good Will? Should I spread you out like a five course dinner and feast on you like a fine meal? Should I tie you down, gag you, bite at your skin until you bleed and lap it all up, drink you down like the finest vintage of Chianti?" Will moans again, tosses her head again, spreading her legs as her fingernails scrambled for purchase in the soft sheets.

"Y-yes. Please, do it, I--I, I, please."

Hannibal traces her lips over the pale white of Will's inner thighs, where her skin is softest, close enough to smell her arousal, sweet and earthy and utterly delicious, hovering her mouth over the wet pink folds of Will's sex. "Is this what you desire?" Hannibal whispers, hands pressing Will's knees to her chest, all spread out like a proper meal. She doesn't answer at first, merely shoves her hips upwards and whines plaintively in the back of her throat. "That is not an answer, my good Will."

At last, whatever resolve Will has snaps and she squeezes her eyes shut. "Please, Hannibal. Please, just--just. Lick me, eat me out, please, fuck, your mouth, your fingers--"

"As you wish." And just as Hannibal has always known, Will is delectable, all tangy-sweet-slick and warmth and soft pleading whimpers that fade into outright whining moans when Hannibal rolls one of her nipples between her fingers and laps at her little pink clit, one of Will's hands searching for purchase in sheets with an impractically-high thread count while her other settled for tangling in Hannibal's ash-colored hair.

"F--fuck, Hannibal--I--I--" Hannibal doesn't need for Will to finish her sentences to understand any more, letting Will twine her fingers into her hair tighter, and then she can feel how every muscle in Will's body tenses and spasms all at once, her body stiffening as she pants out a short 'ah-ah, ah'. Hannibal doesn't stop for a minute or two afterwards, delving in to all the sudden excess slick, enjoying the raw bittersweet flavor for a few moments more, even as the hands in her hair try weakly to tug her away from a too-sensitive clit.

Hannibal smiles as she sits up on her ankles, looking at the wet mess of her handiwork, Will a sweaty, sex-flushed disaster, thighs wet and skin a mess of bite marks and just-forming bruises. "You are magnificent."

Will untangles her fingers from the mess Hannibal's hair has become with a breathless laugh. "You--you are something else yourself, Doctor."


End file.
